Bad Boy Rich

He hovers over me, using his arms for support. The veins in his neck bulge as he leans in, sucking my bottom lip achingly slow. My hands find their way to his cheeks, caressing his face and guiding his mouth onto mine each time he pulls away. That fluttering feeling inside my stomach amplifies with the hammering beats of my heart.

“Okay, well I don’t have it now.” My voice is muffled in between our heated kisses. “But I’m cramping so it’s coming and it would be kinda awkward if the hotel staff had to clean up a mess…”

“Shhh… I don’t care.”

“Wesley.”

“Milana.”

He slides his hands into my shirt, touching my nipples softly and causing me to melt between his touch. I craved him, I wanted all of him, and maybe this is what it felt like to be in love. This moment, forever, just the two of us. Nothing could break this.

“I love you,” I whisper again, his eyes on top of mine and with a need for validation.

“I know,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb along my lip. “It’s just us, okay. You and me.”

“You promise?”

He kisses me softly, replacing the sexual element with an urge of love. “I promise.”

The loud banging echoes down the stairwell.

I assumed it was Mr. & Mrs. Hannigan’s lovemaking again, but am mistakenly wrong as the noise is coming from our apartment.

Jiggling my keys in the door, I open it with a struggle—balancing my purse, mail, and dragging along my suitcase, my arms like dead weight from the heavy load.

The first thing I see is Flynn, relaxed in his ripped black jeans and favorite Futurama shirt—sitting behind a drumkit. The drums are shiny red and black, almost identical to the pictures he has pinned near his headboard. They’re an eyesore in our small and very compact living room.

“Check it out, Milly!”

He plays a beat; banging the sticks against the drum, adopting a wide grin. I recognize the beat; a Linkin Park song that was his favorite in middle school.

My suitcase sits by the door, and with a bout of tiredness hitting me, I plonk myself on the couch, hugging a pillow, and listen to the rest of the song.

It was good to be home, or—whatever this place was. Familiar in a weird yet comforting way. It’s funny how the things that once annoyed us become a normality. Such as the damp smell coming from the bathroom, and the aromas of curry that seeped through the small cracks in the window. The brown walls—once a depressing backdrop—relax my state of anxiousness. I was glad to see Flynn. I missed him, despite his moody ways.

“Wow, bro. Nice kit. Looks expensive.”

“Yeah, it was a gift.”

“Who on Earth would have bought you such an extravagant gift…?”

Flynn’s face gave it away. I sigh, caught between Flynn being happy and Wesley’s erratic behavior. Granted, he had money and easily flaunted it. I was just not used to such extravagance. But this wasn’t my battle. In ways, Wesley knew not to throw lavish gifts at me. I think he learned how difficult I could be when he sent me to the store to purchase that dress for his mother’s event.

“Are you mad?”

“It’s not for me to be mad. I guess, you’re friends or something. I’m tired…I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

“Cool. By the way, Mom asked if you could call her. When you had time.”

I wanted to tell Flynn about the voicemail Mom left me. But watching him—in his essence and in such a good headspace—I just couldn’t do it. I needed to understand what it meant, speak to the nurses and get their opinion on the matter. After my panic attack and Wesley’s brief visit, our two days were jam-packed with work, not allowing me a single moment to think of anything else. In ways, I welcomed the distraction but knew that I had to get to the bottom of this. Mom only had me, and without me taking care of her—there would be no one else.

I decided to call her as soon as I got into my room. Best to talk before I got distracted by something. Upon opening my door, the scent of floral mixed with green nature-type smells—hits my senses. The room is covered in bouquets. I quietly count the number, twenty to be exact. It was a mixture of roses, all in different colors, though oddly—not red. It was like a beautiful rainbow sprinkled all over my room.

I move closer, to the one next to my beside table, and read the card inside it.

I hold the card close to my heart, bringing a smile to my face. My thoughts on his lavish gifts were afterthoughts now. This made me happy, I cannot deny that. Underneath it all lay a sweet, and beautiful man.

A man that belonged to me, and a man that loved me in return.